Aliens: Infest
by Dr Baddest
Summary: The foul xenomorph are quickly corrupting and taking over an entire galaxy. Vast feeding and implanting frenzies known as the dreaded Harvests are taking the lives of entire populations. To make matters worse, the aliens are evolving into new creatures...
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**Charalis**

**'The Pit', Industrial Mining Complex 47G**

Don't panic.

The words resounded through his head, the voice an eerily calm, collective instructor keeping him moving, keeping him alert.

Keeping him alive.

Only five minutes left!

The second voice, the screeching, tearing shriek of common sense that screamed the very base fact that he was never going to make it to the surface before the charges went off and entombed the place.

"Get back!"

A third voice, vocal. A real voice.

His voice.

It took Ambrose a short moment to register that it was him talking, shouting at Hendricks running a short distance ahead of him, warning him of the danger that he had seen and Hendricks had not.

Hendricks looked back over his shoulder at Ambrose, his wild eyes displaying confusion as he faltered briefly, but not enough to stop completely.

Not enough to escape the bug.

Ambrose watched in horror as the nightmare detached itself from the pipes across the ceiling, dropping down in a grotesquely elegant motion to land atop the bewildered Hendricks, smashing him face down to the ground.

His weapon skittered away down the corridor, for all the use it could have done him. There was a universal saying in the corps, that if a bug was close enough to touch, you were already dead.

Time seemed to slow, Ambrose's body moving as if through thick water, his reactions sluggish as he brought his carbine up and aimed for the long, elongated head of the creature pinning Hendricks to the floor.

"Too late, too late..."

The feverish whispers were spilling forth from his lips unbeckoned as he tightened his finger on the trigger, and as he watched the bug drag Hendricks's thrashing form into its deadly embrace, the voices were inclined to concur.

Too late.

Razor sharp claws the length of a man's forearm tore into Hendricks's chest, perforating the flak jacket he wore like tin foil and puncturing his internal organs with ease. Spatters of blood sprayed forth from his screaming mouth as he was shaken like a rag doll by the obsidian demon, before its jaws opened wide and he knew no more.

Ambrose roared in anger, despair and hopelessness as he finally found the pressure point on his rifle and unleashed a juddering hail of high calibre shells into the bug, forgetting combat doctrine and peppering its torso, head, arms, anywhere he could hit and cause the thing pain.

With an ear splitting screech, the creature shuddered and died, blasted apart by his onslaught, hot sprays of fiery acidic blood burning the corridor around it and the ravaged corpse of Hendricks still impaled on its claws.

Ambrose stood motionless and silent for a long moment, watching the shredded bug and the pathetic remains of his comrade merge together and melt away, sinking a hole in the rockcrete floor.

Then he remembered.

Only five minutes left!

He dropped his carbine and ran, the weapon spent and useless now. If he saw anymore of the things he'd have to take his chances, he didn't care about anything other than leaving this place now.

He passed through an archway at the end of the winding corridor and saw it.

The cargo train.

There it sat, motionless but evidently powered up, its three squat carriages hovering dully on their anti grav cushions, ready to head back the way it had come.

Back to the surface, his way out of this hellhole.

Ambrose threw the last ounces of his energy into the final stretch, sprinting for all he was worth across the wide expanse of the stock bay, almost throwing himself through the open hatch on the side of the lead carriage.

With no time to spare, he ran over to the command console and slammed his palm onto the ignition switch, the computer already mercifully set for the return journey to the surface.

The hatch slid shut behind him and the cargo train began to hum, lifting slightly higher off its anti grav cushions and moving towards the sloping incline that would take him to safety.

It was too slow, far too slow, he knew that and he was silently urging the damned machine to pick up the pace, to move the hell faster.

After a few moments it seemed to get the hint and sped up considerably, arching upwards along the repulsor tracks built into the cavern floor and heading for the surface. Inertial compensators kicked in to make sure Ambrose didn't topple over when the train suddenly tilted in direction.

His heart still pounding but his head beginning to clear a little, Michael Ambrose sank to his knees and wept, the plight of the last three days beginning to slough off him in tears, the one commodity he had always been too short of.

They were gone, all gone, and he had guiltily survived. Despite his best efforts, he had lost his squad, the men and women he was responsible for.

Part of him almost wished he could join them in blissful oblivion.

The voices returned, mocking and snickering as they revealed their little secret to him.

Be careful what you wish for, Mikey!

He barely had a moment to turn before the windscreen of the carriage exploded inwards and the giant bug pounced, the jaws of death reducing all to black.


	2. Chapter 1

**One**

**The Phalanx, tactical space platform, Charalis system**

The planet was devouring itself.

Hordes of teeming nightmares swarmed across its surface, spreading like a black disease eating all in its path. Once lush green fields vanished beneath the onslaught, their verdant beauty lost forever beneath the chaotic mass.

The hissing, screeching monstrosities of the swarm thundered onwards, spilling forth down the hills towards their goal, the vast stone city ahead of them.

The first creatures had begun scrambling up the armoured walls of the city when the image froze, capturing the snarling obscenities in a grotesque stillness before the viewscreen faded to black.

"How many?"

The young sergeant remained silent and stood behind her awkwardly, uncomfortable with the question.

Growing irritated, Rachel Merrick turned and stared hard at him, watching the visible quake in his features.

"Did I stutter? How many?"

"Uh, current estimates are suggesting no-one survived the attack, ma'am."

The sergeant gestured to the screen where she had been watching the events just moments before.

"You saw the orbital scans for yourself, Colonel. With numbers that size, who could possibly hope to escape?"

Colonel Merrick cursed quietly, waving a hand absently to dismiss him.

"I want the full reports, sergeant," she called after him as he marched out of the observation.

"Full numbers and anything else we can discern of what happened. No one can know for sure."

As the hatch slid shut behind the departing sergeant, she looked back at the blank viewscreen, sighing softly.

"There's always a chance."

The conference room was in a state of uproar by the time she arrived. A new record, she thought darkly.

General Rifflan was shouting as usual, making certain that he was heard. Merrick couldn't recall a time she had ever heard him speak at a normal volume.

"Ryzel IV was the last of the outer worlds! We need to employ code epsilon immediately, full tactical warhead deployment! Wipe the bastards from existence!"

"And you would readily raze entire planets with nuclear munitions and disregard any human life that remains?"

The calm tones of Tactician Johnston filtered through the aggressive rantings of the general, who snorted derisively at his words.

"Do you honestly believe anyone still lives down on the infested planets? As a tactician you should know more than anyone how the bugs work, what they do to all organic life. There is no human life left," he spat.

"Nevertheless, general, research has indicated that the xenomorph have developed adaptive survivability functions in which to avoid planetary bombardment. They have an uncanny ability to weather even the worst afflictions."

Doctor Smeryl, the Phalanx's lead xenomorph research expert, patted a thick stack of files he had placed on the table before him.

Rifflan waved his arm dismissively at the doctor.

"I've got no time for your charts and figures."

"Maybe you should listen to him, sir. He did a good job of predicting the outcome of Charalis."

The assembled group turned and finally noticed the appearance of Colonel Merrick, who had remained in the doorway to the conference room and silently watched the heated debate.

"Colonel," Rifflan grunted, giving the smallest nod of greeting.

"Nice of you to join us."

Merrick ignored the general and took a seat at the long briefing table, nodding to the assembled advisors, tacticians and scientists.

"I was reviewing the scans of Ryzel IV," she said to the collective group.

"Then you realise what must be done, Merrick."

General Rifflan smiled thinly, thinking an ally of his fellow colonial marine.

"We need to wipe the surface clean and then send in a cleanup crew to stamp out the remains."

He emphasised this with the smack of a meaty fist into his palm.

Merrick remained neutral and looked across the gathered faces once again before replying.

"On the contrary, general. I think we should send a strike team down to Ryzel."

A rumble of debate rose through those gathered, most notably from the flustered General Rifflan.

"Have you completely lost your mind, Merrick? If you think I would be willing to waste valuable time and resources deploying a team into that suicide pit, just so they can tell you the same thing that the scans told you, you're sorely mistaken."

Merrick waited for Rifflan to fall silent before she spoke again, careful of how she prepared her answer.

"It is not a rescue operation, sir," she said, stressing the last word.

"I have information on something I think the lab researchers will find most intriguing."

A quiet murmur rippled through the room, and Merrick could tell from the curious gazes of Dr Smeryl and Tactician Johnston that she had their undivided attention now.

It was time to play her trump card.

Keying the comm unit she had fished out of her pocket, Merrick spoke a single command and then sat back as the conference door hissed open and a marine lieutenant entered, a small folder clutched under his arm.

He strode up beside the seated colonel and saluted to the group, remaining rigid until Merrick ordered him at ease.

"This is Lieutenant Ludenski," she said as she gestured towards the folder he carried.

"Show them the footage, lieutenant."

Ludenski nodded briefly and marched around to the rear of the conference table, placing the folder flat upon its surface and opening it to retrieve a data disk from within. The disk was inserted into the projector unit set into the rear of the large table, and with the push of a switch, an image appeared in the air just above its centre.

Everyone in the room recognised the dark green marble-like shape of Ryzel IV as it hovered above them. Ludenski obviously realised this and pressed a switch on the projector, which replaced the image of the planet with a long-range orbital shot of a large city, its bulk made up of large, box-like buildings.

"This is the capital city of Ryzel IV," Ludenski announced, gesturing towards the image.

"Just over seventeen hours ago, it was hit by a vast xenomorph infestation numbering in the hundreds, possibly the thousands."

He pressed another switch and the image panned across to the outskirts of the city and its surroundings. There was no mistaking what the black mass of activity surging through the outskirts was.

Before the lieutenant could continue, General Rifflan spoke up.

"Excuse me lieutenant," he said with his ever-present scowl in place.

"Your slide show is all very nice, but we were aware of this when the footage came in over twelve hours ago. This is nothing new to us."

Ludenski looked over at Merrick for a moment, who simply nodded for him to continue, throwing a sidelong glance of annoyance at the general.

"This is footage from groundside," he said quietly as he pushed another switch.

The image was replaced by a shaky video, distorted and poor quality but good enough to make out what was going on.

The shot depicted a long, wide corridor, littered with debris and other, grotesque objects. Bodies.

The diagnostic display in the corner of the image revealed that the video had been taken by a marine's helmet cam, a C. Farawitz in this case. As the conference group watched, the figures of other colonial marines passed in front of the camera, taking up firing positions along the corridor and aiming at something further off screen.

There was no sound to the video, but the mouths of the marines in the image could be seen moving as they shouted orders back and forth, gesturing ahead of them. Bright, strobe like flashes of gunfire lit the screen and caused the image to stutter slightly.

The marines at the very edge of the shot suddenly turned and began to run, abandoning their positions with panicked fear etched across their faces.

A moment later, the object of their fear strode into view.

It was huge, towering over the forms of the retreating marines, with a bulky, armoured carapace set atop two pairs of gigantic legs that stomped forth into the video image. The beast had to hunch over to fit inside the corridor, which must have been at least ten feet in height. Its sloping, bulbous head swept left and right as it eagerly surveyed its prey, huge slavering jaws opening to emit a silent scream as it advanced.

It picked up its pace and charged towards the marine positions, shots ricocheting from its armoured hide uselessly.

Someone had the sense to employ heavier munitions, and the group in the conference room watched as a grenade was launched directly into the things midriff, knocking it sideways slightly but seeming to only anger the beast furthermore.

The last thing the video depicted was the raking claws of one of the giant's three sets of arms, slashing downwards into the camera before the screen became a wash of static.

Ludenski deactivated the projector and stood silently as the higher ups around him glanced nervously around at each other, an awkward silence permeating the room. Even General Rifflan could not find words to express his thoughts.

Finally, Colonel Merrick spoke up.

"The footage was retrieved seven hours ago by one of our techs. Apparently the team managed to open a link with the Phalanx's data retrieval systems before we lost contact with them."

"I'm no expert on the bugs' physiology," she said as she glanced over to Dr Smeryl and his chief scientists.

"I just know when and where to shoot. What I do know, however, is that I have never seen the likes of that...thing ever before, not even during the Earth wars."

"It was...monstrous. What the hell was that thing?"

Tactician Johnston shook his head slowly, fighting to truly comprehend what he had just witnessed.

"Goddamn bugs," General Rifflan grunted, looking down at his hands. "Just when we thought they couldn't get any worse."

"I...understand everyone's concern," Dr Smeryl spoke up, looking around at the group, "but this is an evolutionary breakthrough in the xenomorph species. We know so little about their kind, even now after so much exposure. This...creature could answer a lot of questions; perhaps even provide us with the answers to taking this system back."

"I assumed you would say that, doctor," Merrick said with a nod.

"This is why I am personally volunteering to lead a strike team to Ryzel IV and bring this thing back. Alive."

The room suddenly descended into uproar once again, the previous bout of silence shattered as everyone began talking at once.

"That's suicide, colonel!" General Rifflan yelled, slamming his fist onto the table.

"I won't allow it! If you're that keen to end your life then take your pistol and finish it yourself!"

Merrick remained serene as the various political, research and military leaders directed their many questions towards her. She held up one hand for silence, and was quite surprised herself when the room eventually died down again.

"I am doing this for the good of humanity," she said slowly, her sharp green eyes belaying no hesitancy.

"If bringing that thing in will help us wipe them out, then I'll do everything in my power to make it so."

Tactician Johnston leaned forward in his seat as he addressed the colonel.

"Colonel Merrick, I applaud your show of bravery and speak for all of us when I say that no-one doubts your courage or abilities."

"The one thing that does perturb me, however, is why you have chosen now to run a specimen extraction mission. You have a long history of opposing our capture and study of the xenomorph, under all circumstances."

Johnston steepled his fingers in front of him as he held her gaze.

"I personally believe that you wish nothing more than to discover the fate of your squad on Ryzel. After all, was it not your soldiers in that building on the footage?"

Merrick exhaled slowly and nodded, prepared for this. She knew the tactician would have been aware of her squad down on Ryzel IV, and after presenting the footage it was quite obvious that the only way she could have gained intel like that without others finding it first was to have obtained it directly from her team's video logs.

"It's true that the men and women down there belong to my platoon, yes," she said with a nod.

"And like any leader worth their salt, I grieve for the loss of such valuable soldiers. But I am also a rational thinker, and know the benefits of this specimen extraction outweigh any such concerns. If anything, I would like to even the score a little with the bugs, with all due respect, sir."

Johnston stared at her for a moment longer, seemingly weighing up his options. Finally, he nodded slowly and sat back, spreading his hands.

"If that is the case, then I concur with your judgement, and place forth my approval for the mission."

Merrick nodded, glad that he had come through for her.

"I will require my own agents to accompany your team planetside, however," he added.

Merrick cursed silently and nodded again, afraid that the tactician would force some of his intelligence goons into the plans.

"I think my response is well predicted," Dr Smeryl said with a small smile.

Merrick gave him a nod of affirmation and turned her gaze upon the general, the toughest nut to crack on her list. To be honest, he could do nothing to stop the mission if the master tactician approved it, as she could claim the team were conducting a military intelligence task and bypass colonial marine jurisdiction altogether.

To everyone's surprise, General Rifflan nodded curtly, folding his arms in front of him.

"This system is slowly being eaten away by the cancer of these monsters," he said solemnly.

"If you will not listen to reason and let me purge them from our worlds, then I must place my satisfaction in the fact that one of the marine's finest is taking the fight to them."

Merrick tried to hide the look on her face, but the faint smile at the corner of Rifflan's moustached features suggested he knew what she was thinking.

"Then it is settled," Tactician Johnston announced, clapping his hands together as he stood.

"Colonel Merrick, I expect your mission proposal in my quarters within the hour."

Merrick nodded and stood herself.

"Thankyou, sir...all of you. I will do my best to ensure the mission is a success."

"We would expect no less from you, colonel," Johnston replied, before turning and heading out of the room, his advisors in tow.

Merrick followed him out, accompanied by Lieutenant Ludenski.

"Well done, chief," he whispered with a wry grin as he marched alongside her.

"Phase one complete."

Merrick continued to stare ahead, her features set in grim determination.

"Gather the men," she said as they turned the corner and headed in the opposite direction of the conference team.

"We have work to do."


End file.
